Melodie Bolt We’re laughing about the guy you shot with Wilhelmina after he riﬂe-butted your smile because anything is funny when we’re drunk and high; and it doesn’t take long before my eyes cast and your kiss covenants something dire. However, tonight I cinch your ribs, compress your plateaued chest, and review the haunch protruding below dusky leather. There divots an Illinois scar. The deepest incursion smoothed, a ﬂat, still lake like gravel in a lustrous bowl. Breath draws shallow. Zipper glints. Oh, my badged and medaled Ranger, my belt dangles dangerously near the ruinous bodice. I ask. How, do you feel? You exhale. Vulnerable. And I moth to that purple-hearted ﬂame.
Prairie Schooner – University of Nebraska Press
Published: Aug 8, 2020